trip

“You’re a ghost driving a meat-coated skeleton made from stardust, riding a rock, hurtling through space. Fear nothing.”

Once we as travelers — or aspiring travelers — have had a couple of minutes to conjure this mental image, we usually either smile or feel overwhelmed. Do you feel any bettter about buzzing around in a jet above that thing called earth when it’s already hurtling through the galaxy? Yes, we know we’re always rotating around the sun. But we don’t think about it much. We think about where we need to go. About relative distances. When we talk about traveling, though, we talk about going “far away.” But far away from what?

Ask someone who loves to travel the world where “home” is, and they might say that the whole world is home. Anywhere you look, there are three things: a horizon, a sky, and a sun. But asking someone to visualize exactly where they are on the globe can upset their sense of comfort. Who hasn’t been in Kazakstan, the Arctic Circle, or Madagascar in a nice hotel room eating Cheez-its and watching BBC when they take a look at a world map in their travel bag and felt marooned and suddenly lost? That feeling is: where am I?

Take one of those long flights on a cheap airline that offers no “entertainment” except the flight monitor screen showing you inching over an ocean or a continent. These little maps can really upset some people, and they look outside. Yep, out there is the sky, the horizon and that nice sturdy wing that will soon be coming into close contact with some familiar asphalt. Other people (probably those aisle-seat people for whom it’s “not just about the extra leg room”) can’t get their eyes off the map. They need to know where they are, and they rely on that visual map like a graphic compass.

If you’re an anxious traveler, the point is to know what type of person you are — one whose fears are alleviated by using and watching maps — or one who isn’t. Personally I need a sense of where I am on a world map at all times to feel comfortable. being a meat-coated skeleton hurtling a rock on a different piece of the stardust is part of the thrill of traveling for me. When I’m in the Arctic, can I sense mainland Europe and Africa being “below” me? Yes, that awareness is always there. If it wasn’t, I’d feel marooned. My mind would play tricks on me. When I’m in Northern Norway, I need to know that I’m closer to Alaska than I am to New Brunswick. If I didn’t, I’d feel lost. I’d go outside and literally take the sky, the horizon, and the sun for what they are — those things that are everywhere — and I’d get disoriented. I’d become afraid. Those things that are so familiar to me — the sky, the horizon, and the sun — would become a menace. I’d be back home, but in the Arctic.

You, on the other hand, might have ditched your map in Oslo. This is your new home. That’s north, that’s south, that’s east, and that’s west. You’re on a different chunk of planet Earth, but who needs specifics? You want a street map and nothing more. If you look at a world map, you might feel overwhelmed, because you might notice that you’re awfully close to the “edge,” in danger of falling off. You feel like Columbus, determined to prove that the horizon can never be reached. The key to alleviating your anxiety is to forget your geography class, and keep moving without thinking about exactly where you are. You’re an adventurous meat-coated ghost with a soul desire for adventure, hurtling on a rock through space.

Kevin, a traveler I helped over the course of four months and twenty very long, rambling email sessions, was eager to remind me that he’s almost double my age. He also trumps my “country conquest numbers”; by July 2000, he’d been to 80 countries around the world. He took a break for a year to have surgery on his knee. By September 2011, he was ready to travel again. On September 15, 2001, he canceled his his scheduled trip to Cape Town, South Africa. Then over 14 years passed.

Kevin’s granddaughter grew up and majored in international relations. Kevin’s passport expired. He stopped making weekend trips from his native Edinburgh to London. “I used to be able to make that trip on a bike,” he said. Sure, it would take him a couple days. Now it would take him a couple days to dig out his bucket list, read it, realize he was “better off” at home, and go back to watching National Geographic lion cub videos.

I wasn’t sure how to help him at first because I didn’t know what the problem was. Fear of terrorism? Fears of violence or illness in South Africa? I told him I happened to be going to South Africa on May 24, 2016. I could work through his fears as I confronted my own, and we did a lot of that through our emails. It eventually became clear what he was most afraid of: not living up to the “standard” he’d once set as a younger traveler. He would be ashamed and embarrassed to tell anyone he knew that he did what he secretly wanted on a trip– sit around and enjoy his hotel room all morning, eat a deli-mart breakfast on the beach instead of eating shark meat or something else to tell his friends about back home, and then go on a day safari instead of renting a jeep and plunging into the backroads to see the lions in what he said would just be a “stressful” experience. He said he wanted to take it easy and see the animals, not have to constantly monitor them. But…

“Travel is like a sport to me,” he wrote. “I have this feeling that if I’m not going to make a great accomplishment, and get every minute out of every hour, then I shouldn’t even bother playing, Rita.” How do I get an ambitious perfectionist to relax and do what he truly wants with his hard-earned vacation money?

“What if you didn’t tell anyone where you were going?” I asked him.

“What?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” I said. “Then there’s no updating your Facebook page with travel “accomplishments.” There’s no racing around town to find people the “best” souvenirs. There’s no exhausting yourself just so you look like a hero with a passport.”

I lost contact with him for a week. Then, all of a sudden, an update on his Facebook page: he was taking a three-week bike trip from Edinburgh to London. He wasn’t taking his iPhone, much to the chagrin of a lot of his 733 FB friends. He was going off the grid. Don’t even bother looking for him in the hills outside London, he announced on his wall. Then he wrote to me: “Need you to help me buy a three-week trip to Africa. Never bought airline tickets online before!”

Conveniently enough, British Airways flies nonstop from London to Cape Town and back. I didn’t dare mention the escapade last year to Kevin about two South African refugees who hitchhiked in the plane engine all the way back from Cape Town to England. He wrote to me a few hours after he checked into his hotel overlooking the Table Mountains.

“This doesn’t feel like Country #83,” he said. “It feels like Country #1.”

We agreed he should avoid all subliminal reference to anything being “#1.” But, dang, Kevin, you beat me to it. My flight for Cape Town doesn’t leave for three more weeks.

I’ve asked a lot of travelers this question, and consistently noted that about half of people say yes, and about half say no. Jet lag is one of those things international travelers inevitably have to manage, and something that we either learn to put up with, ignore, or (at the very least) use as a good explanation for our coworkers, family, and friends after we get back from a trip and feel like we’re stumbling through a fourth dimension for a week.

Interestingly, those who admit that jet lag causes them quite a bit of anxiety discover that it’s actually worrying about jet lag that causes them the most stress (how will it affect them physically? Mentally? Emotionally?) while those that say jet lag doesn’t bother them often say that while jet lag is irritating, it relaxes them in a certain way — unlike any other physiological phenomenon. These are people who actually don’t mind having their natural body rhythms thrown off because it is a break from their daily rut of work-eat-sleep-worry-work-eat-sleep-rinse-and-repeat. In other words, jet lag is just a feature of being on vacation, of doing something different.

Given the varying reactions and all the anecdotes and quick-fix recommendations that abound out there on how to deal with jet lag, it’s worth taking a closer look.

Jet lag results from alterations to the body’s circadian rhythms caused by trans-meridian (west–east, or east-west) air travel. When traveling across a number of time zones, your body’s natural pattern is upset as the cycles that govern times for sleeping, eating, and body temperature regulation no longer correspond to your environment. To the extent that your body cannot immediately realign these rhythms, you are “jet lagged.” Symptoms can either aggravate anxiety, or be mistaken for intensified side effects of medications. Some of the most common jet lag symptoms include:

Jet lag usually occurs with a change of three time zones or more, and the extent to which you’re affected depends on the number of time zones crossed. If you’re unfamiliar with jet lag (or just want to explain it as painlessly as possible to your great-aunt), it’s worth noting that the maximum possible disruption is plus or minus twelve hours. If the time difference between two locations is greater than twelve hours, subtract that number from 24 to understand the “adjusted” time zone difference. New Zealand, for example, being nineteen hours ahead of Pacific Standard Time, would pose only a five-hour jet lag challenge to a traveler from California.

The recovery time for jet leg is generally one day per time zone crossed, although many people (particularly those who travel more) are able to recover faster. Women are affected by jet lag more than men, since normal nighttime and daytime body rhythms are connected to estrogen levels. Recovery will also depend on whether your flight(s) are overnight or scheduled during the day. You’ll typically experience more jet lag if you begin a long flight mid-morning or early afternoon than if you take a “red eye” flight departing at eight p.m. or later (it helps, of course, if you can actually fall asleep on an airplane).

Unfortunately, there are no proven ways to avoid jet lag altogether. You can talk to your general care practitioner about where specifically you’re going, and how to strategize flight times and sleep hours, to try to minimize the impacts. Your doctor may suggest getting only a minimal amount of sleep the night before your flight (so that you’re naturally sleepy when you arrive at your destination) or taking a prescription-strength sleep medication for the first several nights of your trip.

I know this: Bangkok is never going to make the list of top ten tranquil vacation destinations in the world. Suicidal tuk-tuk drivers, miles of sky-train soaring over one’s head, loud Thai folk music, gargantuan malls, canals cheerfully gargling with life, and enough shrine incense to get you high won’t exactly raise you to a Zen-like state. Instead, you’ll get so caught up in the activity around you that you’ll completely deprogram. What was so important in my life before I came to Bangkok? you’ll wonder.

Those candied colors and warm faces swirling around you will reassure you that everything you need to feel really good is right here. The tension will slowly leave your body and your headaches will become a thing of last week — I mean, of the past. Your heartburn will go away (as long as you stay off of Khao San Road) and your blood pressure will lower as smoothly as Buddha’s arm.

So why isn’t Bangkok on your short-list? Never mind, just take this virtual stroll with me.

On the stroll to the Golden Mount.

Bring your cash and your sense of humor!

You are delusional if you think these tuk-tuks come with seat belts.

Asiatique, new fixture in Bangkok.

Khao San Road, home to motorcyclists, mercenaries, muggers, and misfits.

This is the view from my taxi.

Be sure to wrap your expensive electronics in plastic on the streets, or a drive-by squirting may result in your panic attack.

Another gorgeous shrine to help you relax.

The people who live here have never heard of Prozac.

The mystique of the monastery

Home sweet home on the Chao Phraya River.

You, too, can find inner peace under a gray sky.

Bangkok’s canals provide a restive retreat from the hectic pace of the cit — never mind, just get in.

I’d like my place of worship all in pastels, please. (Gosh my local church needs a makeover.)

Something about Buddha can just make you feel trippy.

Quintessential Thailand.

What Bangkok looks like when you’re still really jet-lagged. But at this point, you don’t care!

…usually to make someone else feel more comfortable, or happy, even though it’s our vacation, and we might very well be in self-gratification overdrive… and if not, then our minds are already full of plans and distractions, addresses and schedules. Sound familiar? Even if you consider yourself a “tunnel-vision traveler,” the kind that has their nose to the itinerary and way more interest in the sights around them than the people, you might find yourself spending more energy than you planned in order to make things easier or nicer for someone else. Personally, I never cease to be amazed by fellow tourists who struggle against their own impatience, social anxiety, discomfort, or pride in the name of kindness or sensitivity to those around them (or waiting for them at home). Here are some observations of how we often make things a little harder for ourselves abroad… and usually don’t feel bad about it.

Speaking the Local Language When You Know the Other Person Speaks Good English. Sometimes even perfect English. But not necessarily comfortable English. What’s the big deal? you ask. Can’t the thousands of underpaid and overworked hotel receptionists at all the Americanized hotels out there just help us in our own language so we don’t have to choke on a few recitations out of a Lonely Planet phrasebook? Of course. But does it sometimes irritate or tire them out? Yes, they’ve told me when I’ve actually asked. Personally, I’ve been amazed at how exhausted and disconnected I can feel from my own thoughts and feelings when I have to navigate back and forth all day between two languages. For some of us it’s natural; for others, it’s a major brain-drain, and can make a person feel downright lonely. If I see a depressed Parisian hotel manager hang up the phone after clearly losing an argument in English, I’m going to do my best to converse with him in my rudimentary French. Yes, it stresses me out. But it helps him regain his confidence and frame of mind.

Smiling at Service People. Should we smile at the maid for cleaning our room? Will she think it’s condescending? Should we smile at the TSA security guy who looks like he’s ready to drop from exhaustion? Will he think I’m trying to distract him? Should I smile at the Muslim couple running a convenience store in East London, who just helped me pick up all my spilled groceries off the floor (what’s to smile about? Will the man think I’m being too forward?) or should I nod and get the heck out of their way? Well, often we’re not sure… especially if we’re in a drastically different cultural setting.

Am I alone in getting pretty nervous over little things like this? Probably not. It’s taken me awhile to realize that even if someone doesn’t smile back, it doesn’t usually mean they dislike your nice expression. They’re just too taken aback or tired to smile back.

Offering to Take Someone’s Photo. Have you ever actually said no to someone who asked you to take a photo of them in front of a landmark? Maybe if you had a baby in your arms, or were in a mad hurry. I know I feel a little bad for the oddball solo male or female traveler standing in the grass in front of the Eiffel Tower trying repeatedly to center themselves in front of their own camera… which is why I stop and offer to take their picture. I’m always worried it will result in an awkward conversation, or the person will follow me asking me to take another photo, or that (worse) I’ll do something and actually break their camera… but it never does. And it actually causes me less stress to offer a photo than see someone ten feet away obviously trying to work up the nerve to ask me. Afterwards I’ll think, what was the big deal?… and then some 80-year-old guy from Alabama will nab me near the Louvre and want me to help him buy a metro ticket.

Bothering to Mail Postcards. We have email, and cell phones. Some of us have Skype, and most of us have blogs. You can now send “digital postcards” from a variety of websites. So why do I find myself in line with many other befuddled tourists in a foreign post office as we try to figure out how much it costs to send where, and how? Apparently I’m not the only one who has a sentimental thing for a mass-produced piece of cardstock with barely enough room to describe what I did for the day, much less how I feel about it. But I know that card is going to mean the world to a parent or grandparent who can’t find the power button on a computer, much less remember to be by their phone at midnight Central European Summer Time (CEST) when I try to call.

Yes, it’s often a royal pain to figure out the local version of the Royal Mail. For example, I’ve asked three different Correo attendees in Buenos Aires how much it costs to mail a card to the U.S., and gotten three different answers. I’ve heard of people wasting a good afternoon of touring trying to track down the DHL service in Moscow only to end up at the rather inefficient and expensive local post office. And I’ve had my share of beautifully-written postcards simply never make it to their recipients. To be honest, I have mail postcards on my to-do list for every city right under look up local embassy and do laundry. Yes, it can be a chore, and a source of possible stress. Some things on a trip just are. But most of the time we find them to be well worth it.

Ever been late to a nice tourist attraction while you fretted over whether the postcard that fits into the little box would actually make its way across the ocean?

I’ve asked a lot of travelers this question, and consistently noted that about half of people say yes, and about half say no. Jet lag is one of those things international travelers inevitably have to manage, and something that we either learn to put up with, ignore, or (at the very least) use as a good explanation for our coworkers, family, and friends after we get back from a trip and feel like we’re stumbling through a fourth dimension for a week.

Interestingly, those who admit that jet lag causes them quite a bit of anxiety discover that it’s actually worrying about jet lag that causes them the most stress (how will it affect them physically? Mentally? Emotionally?) while those that say jet lag doesn’t bother them often say that while jet lag is irritating, it relaxes them in a certain way — unlike any other physiological phenomenon. These are people who actually don’t mind having their natural body rhythms thrown off because it is a break from their daily rut of work-eat-sleep-worry-work-eat-sleep-rinse-and-repeat. In other words, jet lag is just a feature of being on vacation, of doing something different.

Given the varying reactions and all the anecdotes and quick-fix recommendations that abound out there on how to deal with jet lag, it’s worth taking a closer look.

Jet lag results from alterations to the body’s circadian rhythms caused by trans-meridian (west–east, or east-west) air travel. When traveling across a number of time zones, your body’s natural pattern is upset as the cycles that govern times for sleeping, eating, and body temperature regulation no longer correspond to your environment. To the extent that your body cannot immediately realign these rhythms, you are “jet lagged.” Symptoms can either aggravate anxiety, or be mistaken for intensified side effects of medications. Some of the most common jet lag symptoms include:

Jet lag usually occurs with a change of three time zones or more, and the extent to which you’re affected depends on the number of time zones crossed. If you’re unfamiliar with jet lag (or just want to explain it as painlessly as possible to your great-aunt), it’s worth noting that the maximum possible disruption is plus or minus twelve hours. If the time difference between two locations is greater than twelve hours, subtract that number from 24 to understand the “adjusted” time zone difference. New Zealand, for example, being nineteen hours ahead of Pacific Standard Time, would pose only a five-hour jet lag challenge to a traveler from California.

The recovery time for jet leg is generally one day per time zone crossed, although many people (particularly those who travel more) are able to recover faster. Women are affected by jet lag more than men, since normal nighttime and daytime body rhythms are connected to estrogen levels. Recovery will also depend on whether your flight(s) are overnight or scheduled during the day. You’ll typically experience more jet lag if you begin a long flight mid-morning or early afternoon than if you take a “red eye” flight departing at eight p.m. or later (it helps, of course, if you can actually fall asleep on an airplane).

Unfortunately, there are no proven ways to avoid jet lag altogether. You can talk to your general care practitioner about where specifically you’re going, and how to strategize flight times and sleep hours, to try to minimize the impacts. Your doctor may suggest getting only a minimal amount of sleep the night before your flight (so that you’re naturally sleepy when you arrive at your destination) or taking a prescription-strength sleep medication for the first several nights of your trip.